Ballad of an Ex-Patriot
we have watched our leaders die.
you
my america
war torn open
gaping wound
you
like your heroes
bleeding,
broken machines
I can still taste
your poverty,
hunger,
screaming in the mouth
as fear
Interrupts
skylines,lifetimes
with factories,
prisons,
The border:
An effort to make
emperors
of lesser men and
slaves
of all the rest and
you
of pain inflicted
passively-
we have have witnessed infinite suffering
passively-
men,women born
of earth and sky
falling, becoming
slaves
in fields
blistering,
burning
under the sun
men, women growing...still
like the ocotillo
and like the ocotillo
I stood
naked, incomplete
under layers of winter
my hands growing...cold
beneath his clothes
seeking out your cities,
desert bleeding highways cutting
through valleys,stripmalls
The Inland Empire and
you
smog and salt
now seasons away
I can still taste
your revolution,
vision
of working men,women
flooding,fleeing
The land they have
cultivated for years
of wealthy men
lying,dying in
the beds they have
made of our tears
A revolution
of you,
your skin against mine
you,
my america,
dreaming, dissident
gaping wound
you left me
bleeding, mourning,
you, for an eternity
I would rather suffer,
Feel your absence
than for a moment
return and
find
you
feeling
nothing-

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